


so the darkness i became

by whisperapple



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Gen, at least a silencer-to-be, idk man it's my first time posting on ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperapple/pseuds/whisperapple
Summary: Isaviane Montfort had her own share of problems - even before a man broke into her room and, rightfully, accused her of murder. Sadly, she had to add this occurance to the list.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	so the darkness i became

As Isa heard faint footsteps, it was more a reflex than anything that made grab a dagger from under her pillow and blindly throw it in the direction of the noise. She didn't really expect it to reach the target; only cause a minor distraction, at best.

For a few seconds, the barely thought-out planned seemed to work. One hand gripping the bow, the other one quiver, she turned on the other side and nearly jumped out of the bed- and she cursed herself for it, for she ran right into the intruder. She sat right back and blinked a few times before letting go off her weapon in defeat. The man in front of her was dressed in a black robe, with his face cowered by shadow of the hood. There was some dangerous spark in his eyes when he looked at his raised left hand, and as Isa gazed in the same direction she realised that, by the Oblivion, he caught the dagger she threw. She took a sharp breath.

She was severely fucked.

"Ah, you're awake. Good. You'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose." He seemed perfectly undisturbed, which, in return, only made Isa more nervous. So she just stayed somewhat still, only hands trembling, not trusting her own voice enough to speak up, even though she had more than a few questions.

"You prefer silence then?" He asked, giving her an approving nod. He tossed the dagger away and clenched his fist. "As do I-"

She rapidly stood up. The man frowned, ever so slightly, before Isa blurted out the first thing she could thing of.

"It's a rented room. I think the owner wouldn't be pleased to find blood on its floor." She exclaimed quickly and pushed him off her way. "I'll find something to, uh, take care of that, sir."

She nearly ran towards the counters on the other side of the room, her heart trying to jump out of her chest and her knees so weak she nearly tripped. Her hands were unsteady as she searched the drawer.

"Feel free to sit down, mister...?"

"Lachance. Lucien Lachance." She heard him walking to the table. "And thank you. I find that etiquette of yours to be quite refreshing."

Whoever the intruder was, he was up to no good, that she was sure about - but he was willing to cooperate, and she had to use that for her advantage. If Isa knew how to do anything, it was to talk her way out of dangerous situations. Well, as soon as she got a grip of her fear, that is. For now, she couldn't even focus on finding something to stop his bleeding, leave alone surviving the night.

"You're telling me no one ever offered you a seat, mister Lachance?" She asked. "What uncultured people you must associate yourself with."

"I do deal with many different individuals in my line of work. It can be troubling, indeed, but it is also a part of its charm."

"Sounds like it."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Get yourself togheter, and play it smart. She took a piece of cloth and handed it over to Lucien before sitting down. Only then she realised the table was prepared for dinner - earlier that evening she didn't even have the energy to look around the room before collapsing on the bed. 

They've been quiet for long enough that silence started ringing in her ears. She had to cut it.

"I wanted to deeply apologize for..." she glared at the man's hand, still bleeding, which he slowly bandaged. "Throwing a dagger at you."

"Apologies accepted, of course." He nodded, still focused on his light wound. "You do have a great aim. That is something I can appreciate."

Isa cracked a smile and sipped her wine. She thought it may calm her nerves, but she would definitely need way more of it for that to happen. For now, it only seemed to loosen her tongue - and she wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not.

"Well, well," she tapped her fingers on the table. "I assume you're visiting me for a reason?"

"Indeed," Lachance raised his eyes on her. "I come to you as the Speaker of the Black Hand, the rulling body of the Dark Brotherhood."

Oh. She started to feel a little dizzy, whether from the alcohol or the equally intoxicating news. She has heard the rumors, of course she did - they followed her, nearly mockingly, ever since she arrived in Cyrodiil. They say when you murder someone, the Dark Brotherhood comes to you in your sleep. She emptied her glass. 

"Mhm. And what exactly brings you to me? Not a... contract, I hope?" Playing dumb seemed like a good first line of defense. Act like an idiot, a voice in her head, scaringly similar to Faustina's, nagged. A sweet, innocent idiot. Men fall for that.

"Oh, but you know perfectly well," Lucien's lips widened with a smile, but his eyes stayed the same - cold and judging. "The Night Mother saw your work, and she is most impressed."

Well, damn you and your terrible advice, Faustina.

"Not much to be impressed about, I suppose," she mumbled and noticed how shaky her hands got, yet again. She put down her glass. "An accident. They happen."

"A strangely well executed one, though. One, deadly strike, hidden body, cleaned crime scene... No one saw you come in, no one saw you come out." She knew he carefully observed her reaction to his words and she could not stand it. "One could say it was a work of a professional."

She bit her tounge before admitting it wasn't the first time. 

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?" She asked instead.

"Take that as you wish," he leaned back on his seat. "The important part is that what you've done, your deathcraft, pleased the Dread Father... and captured our attention."

Isa nodded slowly, barely keeping a stoic face. This conversation is going places, she thought. Great. She poured herself some more wine.

"For you are a cold-blooded killer, a harvester of lives," he stretched out his words, put an emphasis on each of them, hitting her with them like with knives. Guess it was a fair exchange. "I have an offer for you. An opportunity... to join our rather unique family."

"Family. Family? It-" she chuckled, feeling a bit more lightheaded. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Family meant caring. Family meant closure. Family meant losing.

"Why so?" He tilted his head; she noticed a few strands of dark hair slipping from behind his hood.

"I'm no good for other people." The words felt bitter leaving her mouth; she downed her drink to wash out the taste.

"Believe me, none of us is." He said, once more putting on that wicked smile of his. "After all, we are everything they told you. Merciless killers for hire and homicidal cutthroats. We are everything that, and so much more. For, beyond anything, we are a group of like-minded individuals."

"Mhm. For someone who claims to prefer silence, you do talk awfully lot." She mumbled, lips nearly pressed to her glass.

Lucien let out something close to a snort at that remark.

"Maybe at least some of my words got to you. Now, listen closely for a moment, could you?" Once he saw her nod, he continued: "On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

He reached into a pocket in his robe and took out a beautifully ornated dagger. Isa shuffled uneasily when he extended his hand in her direction.

"Please, accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and it thirsts for blood." As she took the weapon, their fingers slightly touched; she shivered. "May it serve you well, as do your words."

"Now, I bid you farewell," Lucien stood up and locked eyes with her for the last time. "I do hope we'll meet again soon."

And he vanished, just like that.

Isa sighed. She took the wine bottle and drank the rest of the liquor, blankly staring at the dagger gifted to her. Gifted by a murderer, to a murderer.

If that's what she turned into, let it be.


End file.
